The Ballad of Bast
by Bella Winter Rose
Summary: Romantic-style lyric poem, totally original, based on the pilot of Dark Angel. I'm not much for poetry, it took me a looooong time so I hope you enjoy it!


THE BALLAD OF BAST  
  
A young thief sat upon the Space Needle, Her strong eyes searching in the night. Whatever she would steal that evening Had to be just right.  
  
She skimmed over the slums and ghettos, Thinking "ho-hum" and "too easy" No, she had to go to the richer side of town And skip over the part that was sleazy.  
  
She came across the building rising 27 stories. It shined with windows the whole way. But what was in the highest one Really made her day.  
  
The statue sparkled in the foyer, A priceless article her hands so longed to caress. 'I could fence that for at least a thou,' She thought to herself, no sign of distress.  
  
It was made of shined onyx, the sleek figure of a cat, Its two penetrating eyes teased her. Just even glancing at the gorgeous piece Sent shivers up her spine; surely this statue would please her  
  
Even from such a distance The statue could have been liquid velvet It must be ecstasy to have such a fine work To stroke, to touch and to pet  
  
It glittered like a taunting gem An topaz-eyed goddess, black as midnight The ancient Egyptian vision of perfection Beautiful Bastet bathed in moonlight.  
  
From the Space Needle she traveled To that building that night Knowing the entire time She wouldn't go down without a fight.  
  
She made one blunder and screwed it all up. As a window she hastily shattered (as did her heart) Obviously woke the residents within. And soon loosing her chance at her art. A young man was in his office, Expecting something bad. So he ordered his guard to see who it was, But not leaving without his gun in hand.  
  
She froze in fear with a look of shock Plastered on her pretty face, As she met the gun, she thought, 'I need to get out of this place!'  
  
The man came up behind her And threatened her with a shotgun of his own He pointed it at her and Ordered her to put the statue down.  
  
With great caution and much concern, On the table she set the piece. Then held her breath and hoped to God He hadn't called the police.  
  
She broke out in a sweat not knowing what to do. After all, two guns were pointed at her head. Escape was her only option, Or else she was as good as dead.  
  
The man called off his guard, Who backed off in haste. Then he glanced at the statue one more time And told his attractive thief that she had good taste.  
  
The man turned his back for a second, While she swiftly got away, Knowing that this was a big mistake, And she wouldn't be returning to that house soon any day.  
  
The young man was still in his home, Scratching his head in confusion Of to what this thief was up to And her unexpected intrusion.  
  
This man had a notion, He made it a quest. Before he went mad, he simply must Find the beautiful intruder's name and address.  
  
He went on to seek her out To find out who she might be. Using computers and informants, he did and thought, "Or else it will continue to haunt me."  
  
  
  
The following night, she returned to her own apartment and She retired to her room. The tenement she shared with another girl Was as silent as a tomb.  
  
Before she began to settle down for the night, She re-awoke abruptly. On her table by her bed was the statue She had tried to steal the night previously.  
  
Was it real? She touched it, unsure. Within her chest her heart was pounding. The lustrous ebony shined in the dimness, Bastet glared at her, unhappy with her new surrounding  
  
Who could have left it? How could this be? The girl's mind was racing. With Bastet in the crook of her arm She got up and started pacing.  
  
He stood outside the decrepit building, In which he knew she resides. Wondering if she liked the present He had purposely left inside.  
  
As he drove home in his beat-up car, To a home far away from her place, He knew it wasn't going to be The last time he would see her face.  
  
  
  
~FIN~ 


End file.
